Chapter 14: 13

'Killing me' - IKON

Unedited

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Taking a deep breath, Zayn evaluated himself in the mirror. He'd just stepped out the shower. Now he had to get ready. He grabbed his blade and begun shaping up his beard from his neck, then his cheeks and around his mouth. God, it was tiring, shaping up everyday.

Next he grabbed some shears; his locks had now gone a little past his neck, telling him he needed a cut. He'd had no time to go to the barbers so he'd just have to DIY it. He snipped the ends little by little, cutting more on the sides and also shaping up his side burns. Done. He brushed off any stray hairs and rubbed some leave-in conditioner in his hair. This time he did his hair like he'd done when he and Syra had gone to the mall - styled yet messy. He rubbed in some moisturiser and SPF, doused himself in Lynx body spray and changed into his uniform.

He was kind of glad to have a uniform right now - he didn't know what the fuck he should wear for this type of occasion. He took out a new crisp white shirt, a new belt since his old one was so worn and grey trousers this time - his black ones had begun to slowly accumulate lint balls. He wore his school tie and actually bothered to form the knot properly and pushed it all the way up for once. Rah, he had even purchased cuff links. After some struggle he managed them on. Pulling on his socks, he then checked his phone. Syra has seen his messages when he had informed her that he'd be gone with Aboo but she hadn't replied. Strange. But he'd see her today.

Zayn pulled out his new cologne from its packaging, and carefully put a moderate amount on, not wanting anyone to suffocate anyone within his proximity. He checked he had everything : phone, dirt bike keys (Aboo gave them back once they had returned), school bag and his vape. Yes, he had finally got a nicotine-free vape pen, not through illegal means, because he was still a little addicted to nicotine. Hopefully using this would help his habit even if it didn't give him nicotine. He was still hiding it from his parents; he didn't want to get disowned.

Zayn surveyed himself in the mirror. He had gains; he put on some weight and worked out more, so he was no longer bordering underweight for a 6"4 seventeen year old fella. His cheeks weren't as hollow, had some colour in them. His face wasn't dead; but a hint of a smile graced his lips, like he was about to smirk any minute. His silver-grey eyes shone with mirth, with life. Funny how a few days away brought back the old Zayn. The one who loved laughing just as much as loved making others laugh. He set off down stairs, grinning his head off.

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"Assalamualaikum, Zayn," a soft voice greeted him, bringing him out of his dazed state.

He snapped his head up to see Syra. Looks like she had put in an effort today too. Not that she had too. God he sounded so cheesy. She wore a little makeup, he didn't know what but he saw that god damn glossy shit on her lips again. She had switched her black skirt and scarf for a navy one, her Pumas for those boots she'd worn to the mall. Her white blouse wasn't the usual one either, it was a more fashionable one. Okay, he noticed it was a little more fitted too. After giving her an up and down, he responded to her greetings,

"Walaikumasalam, Syra. Been a few days. How are you?" he grinned a little, earning a soft smile in return, emerald eyes shining.

"Alhamdulillah, good as usual. Khairyat? You look very happy and, well, more tidied up," (All praise be to God) (Everything good?).

"Everything is good right now, and I hope will be good later."

She nodded and they looked at each other for a moment, relishing each other's company, him smirking down at her while her mouth twitched into a slow smile. She cleared her throat and looked away; the spell broken.

"Zayn I think we should talk. Like now, as we work on this together. Otherwise it gets very - very, tense and I have a dinner at someone's later today," she informed him while setting up her project. Both had to do some type of art that interested them and combine their works, so he'd chosen Islamic Art and she had opted for mendhi (henna).

He took a deep breath.

"But first we should talk about ourselves in general for the competition - we have missed some days. Then we can talk about what's with us after we complet our project." She added on.

He nodded; relieved.

He didn't want any distractions or interruptions when he was talking to her about that.

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It was after college. Zayn and Syra sat in the college grounds, on the benches opposite each other. The sun was out with a cool breeze, a surprising weather in the middle of the winter, so quite a few students were out and about, no doubt intent on finishing their projects with the approaching deadline.

"So," began Syra, placing her foam cup on the table between them. Zayn mimicked her actions.

"So Syra. It's time we speak." he answered, obviously stalling. God he was being an absolute pussy.

"I think you should go first, Zayn," she said, fiddling with her hands, glancing up to meet his eyes.

"Well. I'm not one to beat around the bush. So, Syra. It's kinda obvious that there's something between. Surely it's not just my imagination. Whether it's be-" he gulped "- whether it some sorta sexual tension or just because you may not like the typa guy I am, I don't know. But I know what it is for me, and it's certainly not the latter. I'm not the best at this shit, but I want you to know that I - I kinda have feelings for you. Have had them ever since I saw you. And this ain't some passing fancy; transient regard or anything, but some deep shit. I've never been in love before, but I know what I feel for you ain't far from that. I don't know. But I know that I want you in my life, not just as some project partner. I suppose you know what I'm saying," he paused for some breath.

He felt very vulnerable right now, he needed reassurance from her that she was going to wait till he was completely done, regardless of her answer.

Syra looked stunned. Speechless, even. Now that was a new look on her. Her lips parted but no words came out. She faintly nodded, so he just took a leap of faith and proceeded,

"What I'm saying - no asking - is that will you marry me, Syra? You don't need to give me an answer right now of course, but I'm technically asking for your father's number, even though I know him. So I can ask him for your hand. But I need your consent before that, for this to go forward even if you refuse later on. The proper, Islamic way. Cuz it's the only way I can be with you without any problems. I know what you're thinking: I'm sixteen and he's seventeen. But I'm not asking you to move in with me right now - I am still studying. Just the nikkah untill we are old enough. And - wait there's no point in continuing with my life plans if you might say no, so. What do you say?" he was legit rambling now, scared shitless to hear her response.

He waited patiently, folding his hands on the table and sitting straighter while looking her straight in the eye, holding his breath.

"Zayn. I guess it was rather obvious however hearing it was still a shock to me. I knew it, but I was being, well, an insecure little bitch. And no, you weren't imagining some sorta tension between us."

She took a sip from her cup, wiped her mouth and took a deep breath and straightened her posture. She raised her head and looked him in the eye, this time keeping eye contact.

"And now I guess it's my turn to share my point of view-"

"SYRAAAAAA!!!" shouted a male voice from across the field.

No. This wasn't fucking happening. He was so vulnerable, so exposed right now. He needed an answer. Even if it was just a mere yes or no.

Resignedly, they both turned to the voice to see two of Syra's brothers jogging across the field. One, of course, being none other than Ilyas and the other, if he wasn't mistaken, was Saleh. Zayn immediately tensed, knowing both would not be pleased with their current meeting. Syra helplessly looked at Zayn and mouthed sorry to him, before pulling on her coat and rucksack and standing up with her styrofoam cup. She stepped out the bench and waited for her brothers to catch up.

"Syra! Didn't you check your messages?! I texted you about the change of plans. The dinner was shifted earlier - we only have forty five minutes left. Challo!"

snapped Saleh, annoyance etched on his face. (Come on!)

He had obviously drove straight from work; he was still in his suit. Ilyas looked like he'd been caught in a scrap - with his whole dishevelled state, tie askew, he reminded Zayn painfully of Shahzad in that moment. God, he hadn't seen his cousins in ages.

"I'm sorry - my phone has been acting up ever since Umar dropped it from the top of the stairs. I didn't know," she replied meekly.

"And you thought to tell us this now?" Saleh retaliated, clearly done with bullshit.

Syra was about to reply before Ilyas intervened,

"Look, we ain't got time for squabbles. Both do you come on. Hope you and Zayn over here are done with your project work." Ilyas looked pointedly at Zayn, unamused.

Dang, Zayn thought. He was hoping to secretly slip away while the trio headed away in haste, but Ilyas, that little bastard, already had suspicions of them.

As if noticing his presence, Saleh turned to him and gave him a once over and spoke,

"So you are the one who is keeping my little sister so occupied. Care to explain - wait I remember you from the dinner. Last week, Friday. You also acted funny with Syra then too, if I'm not mistaken -"

"Well you are. There's nothing to be suspicious, angry or hurt about - there is nothin going on. God, the two of you. Overly protective. As you said, we are running late so what are we doing here? Let's get a move on, innit. Goodness sake," burst out Syra, tired of bullshit.

Ouch. So she said there was nothing between them. But that contradicts what she said earlier. You know she's just saying this to get her nosy ass brothers away. Stop being an insecure little bitch. She a going to a dinner, not moving away. We'll hear from her over the phone or on Monday, he reasoned with himself.

No one said anything after that; once Syra was mad, she was mad and no one wanted to be the subject of her anger. Saleh scoffed and turned around, heading back the way he came from. Syra hung back a bit, probably hoping to catch a quick word with Zayn, but Ilyas was not having it. He pointedly looked at her and she sighed, knowing she had to go. With one last look at Zayn she turned and jogged after her brother. Ilyas followed suit, not before sending a stern quizzical look to Zayn. Zayn looked back at him impassively; well at least he hoped he did because inside he was brewing with frustration.

Just some beautiful timing they had.

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I was on a roll this chapter. Legit took no breaks. Lol. There wasn't much content to this, it was focused more on the speech. Well, he dropped the bombshell. Okay it wasn't even that much of a shock but hey, all protagonists are a little blind. But don't worry, they're just slow, they catch up eventually. We have the advantage of seeing everything, lol, as readers. And me of course who knows shit cuz I'm writing it. Look at me rambling just cuz I ain't got anything better to do.

It was hard deciding this chapters song. In the end I just selected something random. Bruh, I can't seem to think of any song on the spot. They come randomly during the day.

2120 words.